


This Town Goes Down At Sunset

by Edwardina



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: M/M, PWP, Preseries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-10
Updated: 2008-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim talks Jason through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Town Goes Down At Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> Some graphic het-related talk. Also, it's pre-series, so they're definitely underage. Don't read if teen sexuality squicks you.

It's July, and it's like seven-thirty, but it's still bright like the afternoon outside. At this point the day's got that hazy, exhausted feel that reminds Tim of mowing the lawn for some reason. It's like the sky is going to go orange and fade to purple any minute, and the last of the afternoon is shining through with a vengeance, still burning the sidewalks white-hot. Street twisted his blinds shut against it hours ago, but little white lines are still piercing through them, drawing stripes of warmth over Tim's face, bare chest, hands. The knob of his dick's shining wetly in that slice of seven-thirty sun. Street's knuckles move through it, a blur.

Next door, the McGuffeys are running their sprinklers, and in the trees, cicadas are humming, thick and loud, a blanket of froggy noise, and Street's breathing like he's been running laps around the field, controlled but stressed. He's trying to keep it down.

Tim can feel Street's arm moving against his, solid and hot and sweaty, and feel how they're sharing body heat just then. The same heat they share all the time, have shared since they were kids. Right then, though, Tim's skin is so bare against it. He shuffled off his sweat-heavy t-shirt the minute he got into Jason's room, never put it back on. He shucked his jeans down to his knees shamelessly after they hid themselves on the floor behind Jason's bed. 

Jay can barely unzip his shorts without getting paranoid. And he never says anything unless it's something like, "Shut up, Tim," or "Did you hear that?" He's so worried his mom will come up and find them playing with their dicks that he jumps at the slightest noise, gets all hyped up and blows his load fast.

It's no big deal, but whatever. Street's just like that. Tim talks him through it. He's gotta talk so it won't be weird, won't be gay. So Streeter'll be distracted and won't get all, _This is a bad idea, Tim. This is too weird, Tim. Whack off on your own time, Tim._

He whispers, thumb stuck in the crevice-like center of the magazine they're both staring at, "Look at that pussy. Bet it's fuckin' wet."

Tim's fourteen but he's already lost it. Several times over. He fucked the girl down the street every day this one week last summer, till her dad realized she was coming over to his house all the time when Billy wasn't home and said he'd come after Tim with his rifle if they ever talked again. (They fucked a couple more times anyway.) He knows all about this stuff.

Street's been dating Lyla Garrity pretty much since birth, but he hasn't gotten to touch her yet, except through her jeans -- and it kills them both, kills Street with frustration and want, kills Tim 'cause it's so damn funny to him, Street not knowing how it feels to get his fingers in a girl's panties. Street not knowing how hot it actually is, how it feels to have a girl all wet for you, how it feels to slide your fingers all over, slicked to the knuckles with how wet her goddamn pussy is, and just feel her body stiffening, trembling, pushing, squeezing around you. He can just see it, Street getting his hand down Garrity's jeans... _Jason! I thought we were gonna wait till we're married..._

"I'd lick my fingers," Tim mutters, knowing Street's hanging on his words, "get 'em all wet, push 'em in... She'd be hot. An' slippery. So fuckin' wet an' tight."

They stare at the girl in the magazine, her big tits and curvy ass -- shaved, too, perfectly hairless except for her Texas-sized blond hair. Plastic, not like that girl down the street, and not like Garrity, who's all pert and little, all cute. But Tim sees that girl he lost it to, feels the sweet little grip of her pussy on his dick instead of his own fist, and he loses a sigh, and Street -- maybe he sees Lyla, is thinking about fingering her like Tim's talking about. The muscles of his arm are working steadily against Tim's as he jacks himself, quick and desperate like he's afraid of getting caught, or like he wants to shoot his wad that bad.

"Move my fingers like I'm fuckin' her," Tim grunts, and closes his eyes, letting his head fall back against the side of Street's bed and getting an orange glare of sun through his eyelids.

It's like the world's on fire. Heat melts through his face. He tilts away, leaning like he's gonna collapse into Street's shoulder with his prick slipping through his grip all languid and knowing compared to the way Street's goin' for it, and focuses through his lashes. Looks right at him spankin' it. Watches. Street holds his dick possessively, whole-fisted, and he's cut, he's neat and flushed. Tim's loose; he pushes his around, makes his foreskin slide up over his knob then down again till it's bare and pink.

"Get her all noisy," he mumbles thickly, "rub my thumb on her clit till she's beggin' for my dick, can't stop fuckin' herself on my fingers. 'S so fuckin' slimy-wet, Street --"

Next to him, Street's chest pulls taut, Tim can see it, feel him getting close and flexing rigid like his spine's going to push him into it.

"Yeah," Tim encourages him recklessly, "yeah... do it."

And Street totally does -- comes off Tim's talking, Tim telling him to.

He's not gay or nothin'. But he always watches this part if he can, Street shooting off, and feels like... like he's won something. Like he's special, the only one who's done this with Jay, the only one that's made him come. Lyla Garrity doesn't have some claim on this like she's had on everything since Tim and Jason got out of pee-wee. He does. _He_ does. And that makes it erupt out of him in a prick-jerking gush, makes him pump it out without even trying just seeing Jay respond to him like that. Tim comes and comes all over himself, and hits the corner of the magazine, and his load slides, soupy and hot, down his belly and into his boxers. He can't even remotely begin to care.

"Shit," Street wheezes, and Tim watches him squeeze the jizz out of his dick, big white loads, thick ones that stick to the webs of his fingers and in a gob on his Pantherama t-shirt. He's already trying to wipe his shirt off with his other fingers. "Jeez, Riggs."

"Yeah," says Tim again, only this time, it's kind of laughingly. He feels good. Just so good. He can't help smiling into Street's shoulder.

"You spooged all over my damn magazine," Jay tells him, jerking his elbow roughly into Tim's side, and Tim just laughs at him. "Seriously -- that's -- that's disgusting, is what that is. You owe me a new one. Hey. Y'hear me, Tim?"

"Whatever," he drawls, and pushes his sticky-wet hand that smells like his dick at Street's face just to watch him freak out.

"Quit it," Jason exclaims, knocking him away; their hands mash together, and the slide of Street's jizz is unfamiliar on Tim's skin, so thick. It's just warmed to the temperature of his hand. It feels gross. "Ugh! _Tim_ ," Jay repeats, annoyed, but like he's too exhausted to really get uptight about it now. He lets Tim squish their fingers together curiously and mutters, head flumping back against the mattress then rolling lazily to rest against Tim's, "Freak."

"You blow it that fast with Garrity?" teases Tim, swiping his thumb against the glob of jizz caught on Street's.

For that, Street gives Tim's fingers a hard, punishing squeeze, then punches him in his bare shoulder with his other fist, rough and loving and lazy.

"Shut up, Tim," he laughs lowly, and they breathe together, sharing heat, squinting their eyes against the shards of never-ending summer.


End file.
